drenching, soaking and lonely.
Coldest December
Must be a way out,
this vortex of misery
has become too much
So many corners,
places that have history,
unabridged in mind.
It's what could have been
those unreal conditionals.
The ifs and then some.
Keep on having dreams
of nonsense conversations.
Greatly lacking sleep.
Cold December air,
cutting wind and blowing dust,
nothing to protect.
Nothing is answered,
a plaintive face and slack arms,
all facing downward.
A lack of spirit,
walking alone through the streets,
ghostly air from lips.
My head is pounding,
the loudest like gongs ringing.
Troubling, piercing.
Many censored thoughts,
some recycled and some new,
the same conclusion.
When all bets are off
it feels just like a mousetrap.
Small pellets of shit.
You have not left me.
I carry your memory.
A weighted burden.
I try not to look
at hundreds of images,
great, botched reminders.
Fuck this Christmas shit,
songs and all the pageantry
can go straight to hell.
There is deep anger,
inexplicable feelings
devoid of passion.
Sometimes one gets burnt,
the struggle to get past it.
The same as drowning.
There are strong people.
I know quite a few of them
much stronger than me.
Dark in the air shaft,
the weather as mystery.
Sun or not, dark days.
To go far out west
for simple escapism,
new geography.
I think about him,
all he introduced me to,
then took it away.
The cruelest of blue,
sparkling eyes that match the sky.
A black hole iris.
True, everything dies,
many wish to avoid it.
I'm sure its calming.
Over just one year,
all has been turned upside down.
A blind tsunami.
\
